Gypsy Child
by Desepere Romantique
Summary: The time has come to reveal the truth of 'Little Red Riding Hood'. No longer is it a silly children's fable read at bedtimes, but a true story, where wrong decicions may just be right, and love can be found under a watchful moon.
1. The Truth Is Born

It is only the plainest truth that we are under a rather large misconception, preferring our own blissful ignorance and assumptions to bother discovering the truth about a few things. Or if not us, our predecessors years and years before scientific discoveries were much cared for, other than conquering new land and overtaking empires.

But even today, we are still absolutely sure of our assumptions, because we have no reason to believe otherwise, for few have ever been made aware and corrected, and even fewer have believed. Why not? Maybe because it seems completely illogical and nonsensical or maybe because we are frightened of that truth, not wanting to be forced to acknowledge that humans aren't, as the common saying goes, at the top of the food chain.

Now as we read on, and your curiosity hopefully piqued, I beg of patience, and not the scornful scoffing that has become somewhat of a habit, or tradition, if you will.

If you have ever spent time in the wilderness, whether it has been camping or perhaps gotten lost and separated from your church camp, on a clear night you may have heard, and become frightened of an unearthly sound; a cry so mournful and sad that it seeps into your bones and sends shivers down your spine. It sends adrenaline coursing through your veins, and the desire to get back to civilization is intensified from before when you may have felt only the slight urge to get out of there. It is the wolf's howl; his snout pointed up the heavens, every muscle tensed, eyes screwed up in concentration, and every particle in his body releasing the pain from the very depths of his soul.

In this very cliché that has been the subject of many songs and poems, is the source of the assumption and the mistake.

The howl is not aimed at the moon, for what use is it to cry at a lump of rock? But rather to a small star, invisible to the simple human's eyes. The star is home of the powerful and merciless tyrant Queen Ahyork and her people…the former home of the wolves.

Centuries ago, when man was only first beginning to walk, Queen Ahyork came to the realization that her punishment system was overflowing and the prisons were much too full to file away new offenders. Not for one second did she ever think that perhaps her laws were far too harsh and unjust and maybe retrials were needed, but she began hunting for a new place to dump the convicts.

She did not have to search far with our pre-historic Earth so near and easily accessible. However, the Earth was far different from the little star Ma'Re, and she grumbled at being forced to use her powers to adapt the prisoners to keep them alive, because she prided herself on her almost spotless record. Death sentences were rare, and reserved for those poor souls who tried to overthrow her. The family's sufferings were quite amusing, but torturing individuals was much more pleasurable.

So she decided, after observing the creatures and environment of the Earth, how best to punish and still keep alive the prisoners sent to Earth. She constricted them to one form, binding them to a species that was quite rare on the little planet at the time, and gave them the ability of only one form of communication; two, if you counted gestures, but even they were limited.

Her first tests were wildly successful, for not only were the creatures forced to fend for themselves, and have to endure conditions far different from their accustomed atmosphere, but binding them to their new bodies was quite painful, and it only fueled the Queen's malicious pride.

Although, she never realized it, but there was a flaw in her flawless plan. She did not know that some prisoners were not truly bound to their single form, for in her self juried trials she convicted many innocent of the ridiculous crimes she framed them for, and that she sent some to her new prison. She did not realize that the innocent were really able to transform and blend with the humans that inhabited the planet, only becoming wolves when moments of anger, jealousy or otherwise criminal emotions flooded their systems. But really, even if she was aware of this, she might not have cared; in her eyes humans were also perfectly ridiculous.

But this story isn't entirely about the Darwin human's ridiculous short-sightedness that's continued into this day and age, but rather a story that happened quite a long time ago that is still told today, even if specific names have been replaced by idiotic titles, and the story has been twisted to fit a ridiculous moral.

It is the story of Little Red Riding Hood.


	2. The Beginning

In a little village near the edge of a forest in the Old Country, there was indeed a girl with a red cloak that her grandmother had made her, but no one had ever called her Little Red Riding Hood. In fact, no one ever really called her anything, save her mother and Grandmother, and when they did call her, it was by her given name: Rowena.

She was considered a village outcast, not because she was a horrid child, but because of all the rumors that had started up shortly after her birth. The little child was really quite beautiful, and had retained that into her adolescence, but it was an exotic beauty with dark hair, pale skin, and heavily fringed lashes. The villagers, in contrast, all had the same look about them- Fair hair, varying between brown, blonde and the occasional red, the same straight noses, and the same dislike for anyone not like them, although it was rather fun gossiping about those who differed from themselves.

Of course, it was rather coincidental when around nine months before the child's birth a gypsy caravan had passed through the village, and the fact that the child bore a few of the same features of these gypsies was enough to send the ladies into fits of scandal and humiliation from the mother.

They never really noticed that mathematically it was wrong, as it was two months into the woman's pregnancy that the caravan had passed through, and that the child's real father had dark hair, very nearly black. But no one ever cared to bring these variables into the equation; it was much too easy to shake heads disapprovingly at the mother, accusing her of sins not committed and take undeserved pity on the poor gypsy's child.

Very early in life Rowena had learned that the village ladies were to be politely ignored, and that she was to count her blessings every night if she wanted to be able to hold her head up.

Instead of bothering with the children who's mother's and father's surely committed more crimes than her own, she avidly took up reading, burying her little up-tipped nose into books of love and hate, history and tales of the future; always wishing quietly to herself that she could be the heroine, only to chaste herself moments later for being ungrateful of the life that the Lord had given her.

Her mother, Marjorie, and Grandmother, Giselle, worried about her lack of social intercourse, and fretted that Rowena would never marry. They contemplated moving away to a new village, but newcomers weren't eligible for marriage so quickly, especially a girl already at a marriageable age. However, Rowena didn't seem to mind or be troubled by the prospect of being a spinster, and so they did nothing.

Rowena had never had a real male in her life, with her father gone to Heaven a week before she was born, she had never been around the village boys, so the only knowledge of men came from the books she read, and saw no need for them. True, in those silly romance's they seemed quite dashing and exciting and nice to be around, but then in the factual histories they were so ridiculous and dominating, always destructing or overpowering. Maybe there were some men out there who were lovely and would be nice to marry, but they were out there, and Rowena was in the village with no way to go and find them.

And so she was in no way anxious to marry, and was content in her spinsterhood.

Many years before Rowena was born, a prisoner from Ma'Re arrived on Earth, fresh from a trial, a crime wrongly attached to him. He was furious about being punished for something he never did, but if he had the opportunity to now he certainly would. Frequently he was in his wolf state, not being able to cope with his judgment and make the best of his new forms like most of the others.

Although as the years passed, his anger became less frequent, although when he did change, it was for long times because he only became more outraged at being forced into his wolf appearance. He lived in the middle of a large forest on the edge of a village, and to the people there he was known as Peter while in his human form.

He never associated with them, figuring it was too dangerous. Once when the Queen would check on the prisoners, she decided that the human numbers were growing far too high, and commanded them to control the populations once a month. Her thoughtless command sent them into blood-thirsty rages that led the humans to fear them, bestowing them with the name of 'werewolves.'

Peter also quickly learned that life spans for these humans was much shorter than the people of Ma'Re, and when the villagers around him were all growing old and he still remained young in their eyes, he realized than as little contact as possible with the people was best. He kept up occupation of an abandoned villa, and the villagers thought of him as a sort of hermit, and he did nothing to dispel the rumors.

And so with our characters truth's revealed, the story must also emerge from the shadowy abyss known as falsehood. I suppose this tale should begin at their first meeting, in the little Apothecary.

Rowena's grandmother had fallen ill, and against the old lady's protest's her daughter, Rowena's mother, insisted upon the medicine.

The prescription was to be re-filled once a month, the ninth, to be exact. Rowena did not take any pleasure in these visits; she never had enjoyed visiting the apothecary. The man who established the place was an ancient old man, who it seemed, had been around forever. Rowena's grandmother recalled from the years when she was younger, he looked exactly the same. 'But perhaps,' she would always conclude 'he stunted his aging from being around those horrid potions for so long…' But whatever the reason, it did not explain away his behavior to her, especially in the months of filling her Grandmother's prescription.

He was always brusque in filling her order, as if glad to be well rid of her. The visits left her bewildered and a little hurt. He was as much of an outcast as her; couldn't he show a little kindness? She had tried to extend the very proper courtesy, but after being rejected so many times, a cool disinterested air accompanied her to the shop.

Sometimes there were villagers in the shop, and on these occasions she would duck behind shelves until they left. She hated doing so, but she hated their pitying eyes as they looked down their noses at her even more.

In June, she was not quite as lucky to find the shop empty as she had been the previous month. Mrs. Cartwright, the plump lady who was one of the ringleaders to Rowena's disapproval, was standing at the counter, haggling noisily with McCray, the shopkeeper.

She had been rather loudly voicing her opinion of high prices when Rowena stepped inside, and hadn't even heard the door open.

Frowning, Rowena ducked behind the nearest shelf and waited for the haggling to be settled. Mrs. Cartwright grudgingly agreed to pay forty-five pence for the vial and bag of whose contents were worth the outrageous sum.

Mrs. Cartwright made her disapproval quite audible, and made sure the door was shut violently, very nearly shaking the small building.

Rowena began to step out, but made a small noise of irritation as the door opened again. She retreated back to her little corner, thinking Mrs. Cartwright had changed her mind and wanted to beat down the price again, and was surprised to see that it wasn't the vicious little woman, but rather a man she hadn't seen before.

He was tall and imposing, making the shop seem smaller as soon as he stepped over the threshold.

His clothes were not like those of the other villagers. Instead of wearing worn britches and traveling coats that were used for both work and when out calling, he wore what many of the men could afford only to wear to church, or fine occasions- the daily clothes of a wealthy man. His hair was a dark brown, but it appeared black in the gloom. His face was in shadow, but his handsomeness couldn't be masked. He was the best looking man Rowena had ever seen, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

"Peter, you should have been in here yesterday…" McCray's irritated voice rang out, and the man called Peter bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"I was held up…" his voice was vaguely apologetic, but unruffled by the others annoyance. Rowena had to stifle a sigh at the velvety melody.

"What could be more important that this? Unless…you weren't working on it again, were you?" McCray groaned, and Peter bristled uncomfortably. He turned his face from Rowena's view and unconsciously she shifted, trying to get another glimpse of it.

"Look, you know as well as I do that if I succeed that it'll be the cure for us all…"

"But more likely than not you'll get yourself blown up!" McCray interrupted, and Peter shrugged.

"Beter than being…" Peter was cut off before finishing that thought, as he was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking.

McCray and Peter whipped around, and Rowena felt her face grow suddenly hot in her embarrassment. In trying to get another glimpse of Peter's face, she had knocked over a bottle. She tried to sink further back into the shadow of the shelves, but McCray already had a good idea of who was trying to make their self invisible.

"Girl! Come out, now!" McCray thundered, his voice surprisingly loud and strong for one who looked so frail. Rowena felt herself trembling in fright, and very reluctantly stepped out from her shelter.

Peter felt his breath catch, unknowing that the girl had the same reaction to him only moments before. She was like an angel from the heavens, more beautiful than any woman he had seen on Earth, for all his years. Every feature about her entranced him; the hair that was dark as coal pulled up and away from her angelic face, those eyes that looked almost as green as the panes of colored glass outside of the local church, the simple dress that she wore that revealed a handsome figure, and even the red cloak that adorned her perfect shoulders.

He tried not to stare, as Rowena felt hideous and stupid under his gaze. She wished that she had put on a better dress and not the rag she wore now, and her hair! It was certainly a mess…

"What were you doing lurking back there?" McCray demanded of her, startling Peter. He had quite forgotten the man was there, completely caught up about the girl who trembled in fright before him.

"Mrs. Cartwright...I was waiting for her to…leave." Rowena stammered, blushing furiously, feeling a fool.

McCray frowned, knowing what she meant, but Peter stared curiously. Why should she have waited in the depths of the store for a woman to leave?

"You should have made your presence known." McCray, said sharply, but he bent over and rifled through his drawer for some unknown object, resurfacing moments later with a vial.

"Take this and be gone." Rowena nodded vigorously, taking the potion and setting down a number of coins on the counter before scampering away. She allotted herself one more glance at the beautiful man before opening the door. She blushed again, seeing he and McCray still stared after her.

Even after the door was shut, Peter couldn't tear his eyes from the space she had just occupied. But at last, he turned and found McCray counting the coins and muttering to himself.

"Ridiculous girl, hiding in corners, spying on private conversations…hah, she didn't even know how much money she was giving…" Peter perked up at his words and snatched the extra money out of his friend's hand.

"I'll be right back." He said, already halfway out the door before McCray could tell him to wait.

She was not far along the road, and relatively easy to spot with her red cloak, even though her head was bowed.

"Miss, Miss!" Peter called, and he could see her freeze.

Rowena halted abruptly, recognizing the velvety tone of the man from the apothecary. Instantly her mind told her that he was probably calling after another, prettier girl, but she turned around anyway.

He was indeed calling after her, taking long strides before he stopped in front of her.

"You, er, left this at the shop…" Peter stuttered. Never before had he stuttered, and he inwardly marveled at how this girl could make his stomach lurch about in such strange ways.

"Oh," Rowena blushed, and Peter felt his stomach lurch again…he made her blush!

"Thank you…" she continued as he pressed the coins into her hand. Peter felt a new sensation spreading in his stomach as his hand made contact with her impossibly tiny one, and he wondered if she was feeling the same thing as well.


	3. Moonlit Meeting

That night Rowena couldn't sleep. The only thing that she could think about was the man she had met that day in town. She sighed and rolled onto her side, facing the window. A thin stream of moonlight fell into her room from between her curtains, lighting a strip on her wall which she stared at until she pushed her covers back, bidden to the window by some unseen force.

She pulled the curtains wide and leaned her elbows on the sill, pressing her forehead to the glass. How could it be that a man she had seen only once could dominate her thoughts for so long?

'I'm being stupid…I'm acting like a ridiculous love-sick heroine from those silly romance books…' she thought, but before she could stop herself, her imagination raced off at the mention of the romance books, and in her mind a mental image of herself and Peter made her cheeks grow hot.

She felt the sudden need to clear her head and get fresh air; the stuffy room was causing her to think of completely inappropriate things…things that girls shouldn't think of…

Rowena felt justified for sneaking out as she snuck into the safe confines of the forest. In the open air she had felt exposed, ready for some late night prowler to expose her, but in the forest she felt safe and comforted.

Across the forest Peter was hiding inside his house, hunched over, his features contorted in pain. He had been so consumed with his thoughts of the angel from the Apothecary he hadn't even gone back. The potion that would ease his suffering was still at the little shop, and could do nothing to help him now that he had made the mistake of stepping into the smallest sliver of moonlight.

He tried desperately to retain sane thoughts, but they evaded him as his features morphed into something feral and inhuman…a mythical creature that knew no rationalizing, that flew from the little room, crashed through the villa and burst into the night with a ghostly howl.

Rowena felt herself freeze in her tracks as the forest around her too froze. She noticed that the creatures of the night had been silenced only by the absence of their small noises. All at once she felt doubt about her coming out in the night…all of the myths that she had once scoffed at felt suddenly very real. Were there truly beasts that thirsted for human blood? And she, the foolish little girl who doubted, would be taken as some kind of sacrifice?

But as the quiet seconds past by, the forest slowly came back to life, fear gradually eased its icy grip on her heart, and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief. She scolded herself, embarrassed that she could so easily be shaken by old wives tales thought up just to frighten young children out of slipping out at night.

She continued on, knowing that just a bit further there was a little clearing. Twigs snapped underfoot, and she hummed quietly to herself, her thoughts diverted from evil by Peter…she wanted desperately to know what he thought of her…if he thought she was just some bastard outcast just like the rest of the village, or if maybe there was a slight chance he didn't know the rumors that circulated about her.

And just as she was plagued by thoughts of him, he was consumed with thoughts of her, and only her.

He had heard the patter of feet against the abandoned little path, and had noiselessly raced to follow her. Her scent lingered in the air, teasing him with its indescribable burn in his nostrils. To human eyes, the trail was vacant, but to his eyes, the trail was full of nothing but her…her silhouette held no allure, but the promise of her hot blood was enough to make his mouth water. He was almost too swift to be seen, but the tiny cicadas sensed before saw the beast that frightened even insignificant them.

Rowena stumbled, startled by the insect's sudden change of tune. It changed to a single ear piercing note that made her wonder if the creatures knew more than she. Some carnal instinct flooded her, and she was spurred into motion. She tripped forward, barely risking a glance backward at her unseen, unknown assailant.

Peter could not repress a moan of desire…adrenaline was irresistible, and he could already feel her sweet blood filling his mouth. And she was closing in on the clearing…even easier to trap her. Human girls would not dare flee through the pond- they could not swim. Or if she did, it would still slow her down.

Rowena burst into the clearing, moonlight illuminating her completely; her face was pale, fear drawing her eyes wide, her mouth a round 'O' as a beast too frightening to ever be imagined in her wildest nightmares followed her from the shadows of the forest.

The pure moonlight stung against him just as the girl turned to face him…she stumbled backward, mistakenly stepping into the pond. She lost her balance and tumbled into the water.

His thirst swelled, and he raced to waters edge, ready to finally taste the flesh that had evaded him…but when he saw what face floated in the water below he hesitated.

She was unconscious, and would be ever so easy to take, so quick and easy there wouldn't even be a struggle…but the slackened features that met his gaze made him stumble back…some part of the beast gave way back to Peter, and he felt not the inhumane desire for her blood, but the human desire to see her eyes open, to see her face animate upon seeing him…

The command set upon him by Queen Ahyork so many years ago, the spell that had inspired the exact same corporeal reactions every month held no account for the charm that the angel had set upon him hours previously.

The beast rapidly decayed to where the haggard form of Peter was all that remained. His clothing was stretched and the material was torn from where it had snagged on the undergrowth. He fell to the ground, weakened by the strain the beast had put upon his stamina.

Although exhausted, he still felt a desperate panic for the fragile girl who floated in the water. He gingerly pulled her free of the underwater weed's tendrils, relishing the feeling of her in his arms.

She was limp and cold, water steadily dripping from sodden clothes that clung to her form. Waves of emotions overcame him, most were familiar to him, but others were new and somewhat bewildering…

He felt his stomach churn, his eyes charmed by her figure, the same sort of desire he felt for blood rising, yet it wasn't desire for her blood this time… anger and disgust overrode this strange feeling before he could examine it further…he had been so close to killing her--turning the water crimson with his savage ravenousness.

Peter was torn. He wanted to jump up and leave the girl, run away from these emotions…and yet he couldn't leave her stranded by herself in this state; but it was also he who put her in her current state. It was a vicious game, but in the end he wound up staying, rationalizing the he needed to protect her against the others of his kind who were fool enough to not take the potion.


	4. The Connection

**It has been half a month, hasn't it? **

**Sorry it took so long…but there'll be another up shortly!**

**I hope you enjoy it…**

**--**

It seemed only seconds until she woke; seconds that were far too short, and that went by far too soon. But it was better, perhaps, that it was quick…better so he could get away from the human who evoked feelings better left undisturbed…

Rowena slowly opened her eyes, confused as to where she was. She was all wet, yet warm, and very comfortable. She looked up, and was shocked to find herself in Peter's arms.

She let out a soft cry, and Peter jumped. He had been gazing into the forest, sadly thinking about how he would have to leave her be after this night.

"I…I'm sorry, Miss." He said quickly, releasing her from his arms. She tumbled to the ground, squishing on the soft mud. Peter stuttered another apology, and offered her a hand up.

She took it, and he noticed that her hands were shaking. "Are you alright?" He asked, and she nodded her head, trying not to look like any more like a fool. Her face was hot, she was aware that her dress was clinging to her, and her hair was hanging in her face, dripping everywhere. She thought she had never been so hideous. Peter thought she could never have been so beautiful.

For a few breathless moments they stood there, unsure of what to say. He repressed the sudden mad urge to spill out sonnets and confessing his love. She reprimanded her stomach for fluttering and churning in such a way. He was staring at her because she was soaked. But still, her blush grew and the back of her mind couldn't stop wondering 'What if? What if?'

"I should…um, be going back home…" She said quietly, too timid to speak up. She looked at the ground as she spoke, afraid to meet his eyes.

"Yes," Peter agreed. But his thoughts disagreed. He wanted to keep her hand and tell her not to leave, to stay with him. But he let her hand slip out of his as she began to walk away.

Rowena's head was spinning; when she had fallen into the pond, she had hit it, and now she could feel a lump rising on the back of her skull. She tried to shake away the dizzy feeling, but she swayed- the feeling intensified.

Peter reached out for her, catching her before she could fall. "Maybe you should sit for a little while." He suggested, and he suppressed a shout of joy as she nodded, and allowed him to lead her to a dry, green patch of grass.

He sat beside her, and she kept a hold of his hand, still feeling the ground swaying under her.

"If I may, may I ask what brings you out here at such a late hour?" He asked as she laid her head on his shoulder. He didn't care one bit that her wet hair was soaking his shirt.

"I fancied a walk." Rowena answered simply. This couldn't really be happening; this whole night had a dream-like quality. First that…monster, and then waking up in Peter's arms? It must be a dream- a very pleasant dream, despite the monster and the pain in her head. It would probably hurt in the morning when she woke up and realized this was just a fantastical dream, that Peter wouldn't really be the one to pull her out of a pond and ask if she was alright, but she didn't care.

If this was a dream, which it definitely was, then she wanted to make the most of it. She wouldn't have the opportunity to do this outside of her fantasies.

"You fancied a walk." Peter repeated, and Rowena nodded brightly.

"Yes, you see, I couldn't sleep. So I wanted to come out and clear my head."

Peter nodded, and asked if she did that often. For a long while they simply sat there and talked. He asked about her life, her interests and hobbies. He asked about her friends and family, clinging to every word she said, determined not to forget anything.

She talked more with him than she had with anyone else, voicing opinions and thoughts she had kept to herself for so long she had thought only hours before she would never have anyone to share them with. She felt sure she was boring him, that Peter couldn't possibly be interested in what she had to say, but when she expressed that concern he laughed and told her that he was the furthest thing from bored.

He laughed at her jokes, and nodded appreciatively when she told him her feeling about a certain subject. He added to her ideas, making them complete, and encouraged her when she felt embarrassed for talking so much about herself.

It was certainly the most exciting night of her life, but couldn't suppress her body's desire for sleep. Right in the middle of a discussion about classic literature, she felt her eyelids droop, and momentarily fell asleep.

Peter was embarrassed and felt ashamed at both his selfishness to keep her with him for as long as possible, as well as his perverse longing to watch her sleep. But moments after her eyes closed, they opened again, and she looked confused.

"I think we should probably take you home." He said, and she agreed, yawning.

Though she nodded her head, and allowed him to pull her to her feet, what she really wanted was to lie down on the grass and sleep there, right next to Peter. She scolded herself for wanting that, but couldn't help envisioning sleeping with Peter's arms snuggly around her body.

She led him to her house, the both of them walking slowly. It was very late, or early, and they were tired, but neither wanted to leave the other. Her arm was through his, and she was leaning against him, her eyelids fighting the urge to droop.

"This was fun." Rowena said softly, once they were at her porch. The moonlight shone brightly, and her skin was pale as the magnolia blossoms beside the house. Peter didn't feel slightly feral, except in the way he wished to hold her tight and touch her warm, inviting skin.

"Falling in a pond was fun?" Peter tucked a strand of still damp hair behind her ear, and Rowena grinned.

"Oh, it's the most fun one could have. I'm partial to rivers, but ponds do just fine." Peter returned the smile as she hugged his jacket closer to her, and inconspicuously breathed in the scent of him. Then she shrugged it off her shoulders and handed it to him, but Peter didn't take it.

"You keep it; I think I'll live without it."

Rowena felt shocked that someone could afford to just give away a jacket, but did not show it.

"No, I think my mother and grand-mother would wonder what midnight capers I've been up to if they saw it." And I don't want to wake up and find it missing; to know for sure this was a dream, she added silently.

Peter smiled and took it from her, noticing it was still damp and smelled vaguely of her. He said goodnight and started to turn away, but stopped.

"Your name." he said suddenly "I never asked it."

"That's alright. You really needn't know it." Rowena said, her hand on the latch of the door.

"Why is that?"

"I doubt I should have such a good dream again." She flashed him a smile, and slipped inside, leaving him feeling very confused, and dazzled.

As he walked away, he felt the subconscious sensation of being watched, and when he turned back, the angel was staring through the window, her bedroom right next to the magnolia tree.

**--**

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